“It was the only way. You would certainly not have allowed her to go otherwise.”
Kelia grasped the arms of Susarra's chair, leaning over her. “Where did you send her?”
Susarra glared, unblinking, back at her. “I will not tell you. All I will say is that I have been preparing her for this for a long time. She knows what to do.”
“If that girl comes to any harm,” Kelia said through clenched teeth, “So help me, you will pay dearly.”
She looked away, snorting dismissively. “Do what you will.”
“I shall.” Kelia straightened herself up and returned to her chair. “Susarra, daughter of Veeta, you have violated my trust, and my orders, for the last time. Whether you were motivated by egotism or altruism is unclear. It is also irrelevant. I regret that I have no choice but to remove you from this Council. Return to your home, and remain there until I decide what is to be done with you.”
Katura and Eloni let out a long, slow breath, bowing their heads in acceptance of Kelia's judgment. They did not look up as Susarra stood, grabbed her walking stick, and limped towards the door, exiting without another word or even a glance back.
Kelia rubbed her temples before burying her face in her palm.
After a few moments of silence, Eloni spoke up. “Such an unpleasant business.”
“Agreed,” said Katura. “What's to be done now?”
“Regrettably, there's nothing we can do,” Kelia said wearily. “Runa has been unable to determine in which direction Vaxi traveled. We could send search parties after her, but I fear it would be in vain. She's in Arantha's hands now.” She sighed. “I will consult the Stone later today. Pray Arantha gives me some insight as to Vaxi's well-being.”
“Yes, Protectress,” said Eloni. “Are you in a proper state to inform us of your journey?”
Over the next hour, Kelia told them of her experiences in the mountains. At first they were astounded to hear of the advanced beings from the Above, but soon they became drawn into the story of Maeve's and Davin's origins. She briefly spoke of their technology and its wonders, including—-with wry amusement—-their ability to change their own hair and eye color. When she mentioned the existence of a second Stone, the two elderly women couldn't hold in their amazement.
“A second Stone,” Eloni said softly, her eyes glassy. “Buried in the mountains only a day's journey from here. I can scarcely believe it's true.”
“I was as shocked as you, Eloni,” Kelia said. “Nowhere in our written history is there mention of a second Stone; at least, not that I'm aware of.” She turned to Katura. “Katura, if there is anyone who has spent more time than I perusing the recorded visions of past Protectresses, it's you. Do you recall any such mention of another Stone?”
Katura shook her head. “I do not, I'm afraid. Granted, my memory is not what it once was, but I think I would remember something like that. Unless the reference was so cryptic I just missed it.” She affixed Kelia with a sharp glare. “What could it mean?”
“I don't know,” Kelia said. “Anyway, the question is moot. By now, the aliens will have taken the Stone and left. And if not, they will soon.”
“And you just let them have it?”
“Yes, and I would appreciate it if you didn't spread news of this Stone around. It would only cause further distress. These beings,” she paused, her mind filling with images of Maeve, “came to our world to save theirs. I am convinced not only was it Arantha's will that they find it, but that they have it. They were—-are—-good people, and I cannot begrudge them that chance any more than I can lay claim to a treasure that may never have been found without their help.”
“I suppose not,” Eloni said. “What a shame we could not have forged an alliance with them. To learn from beings from the Above …”
“Yes,” Kelia said, standing. “Most unfortunate. But our destinies, it would seem, lie along different paths.”
Kelia regretted not informing the Council of her Sharing with Maeve, and of the remarkable symbiosis their Wielding abilities seemed to have. But doing so would have been pointless. Maeve was gone. All Kelia had left were memories of the most incredible two days of her life, memories she would hold onto for all her remaining years.
“We will need to fill Susarra's spot on the Council as soon as possible,” Kelia said. “I can think of no one more suited for the position than Liana. Any objections?”
“I would not object,” said Katura, “but do you not think there is a conflict of interests? Replacing your biggest detractor with a member of your own family?”
Kelia considered this for a moment, then shook her head. “We need to restore unity. Everyone in the tribe knows Liana is not one to hold back her opinions. Not even from me.” She gave a wry smile. “She is knowledgeable, wise, and fair. She has done a remarkable job training Nyla. I believe she's earned it.”
“Then it's settled,” said Eloni. “I trust you will inform her straightaway.”
At that moment, a great clamor came from outside the Council Chamber. Raised voices, some in anger, floated through the doorway. All three women rose to their feet, but Kelia was the first one to pass through the door.
There, at the foot of the staircase leading from the Chamber, the crowd of discontented Ixtrayu had tripled in size since she entered. Upon seeing her emerge, many of them raised their hands, shouting questions at her.
“Will Vaxi be safe?”
“Is Arantha displeased?”
“Will the Sojourns be resuming?”
“Where did you go, Protectress? Has Arantha returned?”
“Did you really remove Susarra from the Council?”
“What's to be done?”
Kelia raised her hands, quieting the cacophony of voices before they became deafening. “Sisters, please! Enough of this!”
No effect. The voices just became louder, angrier.
Kelia drew upon her Wielding abilities, creating a small cyclone of air that lifted her off the ground. She spread her arms out and floated majestically down the stairs. The crowd could only stare, wide-eyed, unable to find their voices.
Kelia landed several steps up from the bottom, and the air around her dispersed, ruffling the clothes of those nearest her until that, too, calmed and died. There was now silence.
“To answer your questions,” Kelia said in her most strident voice, “Susarra has been removed from the Council. Vaxi's Sojourn was not sanctioned by myself, the Council, or Arantha. We do not know where she has gone, and Susarra refuses to tell us, which means we cannot go after her.”
A few murmurs came from the crowd, but no one else spoke.
“I know you all want the Sojourns to resume. Believe me, I want that too. But I cannot authorize that at this time. I maintain what I always have: Arantha has done this for a reason she has chosen not to reveal to us yet.”
“Protectress?” said a voice from the middle of the crowd. “May I speak?”
Kelia identified the source of the voice, a dark-skinned woman from Hathi's group of gatherers. “Speak, Uleta.”
“I was seventeen when Protectress Onara called a halt to the Sojourns. I just recently celebrated my thirtieth year,” she said.
“I am aware of that,” Kelia said.
“I lost my mother last year. I have no sisters, no blood relatives. If I do not produce a daughter, my family's line will end. Please do not let that happen, I beg you.” She stared up at Kelia with mournful eyes.
Kelia felt as if her heart was being torn asunder. Her mother's order had produced many ripples, many consequences within the tribe, but Uleta's circumstances were perhaps the most tragic. “You come from a strong family. I would never wish to see it end,” she said with a tightened jaw.
Aarna, the head food preparer, put her arm around Uleta. “We do not want to oppose you, Protectress, but Uleta is not the only one who has had to wait for far too long. My own daughter, Ryta, is in the same position. She has more years of fertility behind her than ahead of her. Would you forc
e upon her the dishonor of not producing at least one daughter to carry on our traditions?”
Before Kelia could answer, there were nods and shouts of assent from the crowd. The situation was close to boiling over, Kelia realized. She had thought the Ixtrayu's faith in Arantha, in her, was enough to dispel their doubts, but she had severely underestimated how troubled her people were … and with Susarra adding fuel to the fire, they were on the brink of revolt.
Could Susarra be right? Is this what Arantha had in mind for them all this time? If so, why couldn't she have made this clear to Kelia, as she did with Onara? Why send her all the way to the Kaberian Mountains for a meeting that ultimately amounted to nothing?
Kelia sighed, self-doubt washing over her. Maybe Susarra is right. Maybe Maeve is right as well. It's time things changed.
She held up her hands again, attempting to quell the rising tumult. “My sisters! Please, compose yourselves!”
After a few moments, the crowd became silent, and all eyes were upon her.
“Much has happened in recent days,” she announced. “Events have transpired that will require much contemplation between myself and the Council, after which, I can assure you, you will be informed. Regarding the Sojourns: while I believe Vaxi did not make this journey of her own free will, the fact is that it has happened. All we can do is pray for her safe return.”
“And if she returns?” Uleta asked.
“If she returns, we will welcome her back, and any baby she carries,” Kelia said. “If she is successful, and her child is born healthy and strong, we will take that as a sign that Arantha favors resuming the Sojourns. If, however, Vaxi does not return, we can only interpret it that Arantha is displeased with us, and we will continue to wait for a direct sign from her. Is that acceptable to you?”
No one responded directly. They cast furtive glances at each other, at their feet, or at nothing in particular.
“I cannot reveal all of the details yet, my sisters, but I believe we are at a critical point in our tribe's history. We dare not anger Arantha at a time when we will need her guidance the most. What say you all?”
Many remained stock-still, but many others slowly nodded their assent. Aarna bowed her head, as did Uleta. “We will pray for Vaxi's safe return, and for Arantha's continued guidance, Protectress,” Aarna said.
“Thank you, sisters,” Kelia said, the knots in her stomach loosening. “Please return to your duties. I will inform you of any developments should they arise.”
A final chorus of nods, and the throng began to disperse. At the back of the crowd, Kelia locked eyes with Liana, who nodded her approval. Next to her were Nyla and Sarja, who couldn't hide the worry on their faces.
Kelia ascended the stairs again, only to find Eloni and Katura waiting for her at the top of the landing.
“Well spoken, Protectress,” said Katura. “I regret that it was necessary. It would seem that I have become appallingly disconnected from the tribe, or I would have seen this coming.”
“As have I,” said Eloni. “I knew Susarra was disgruntled, but this … I had no idea she had this much support.”
“Do not fret, Councilors,” Kelia said. “And do not dwell on this. What's done is done. We must redouble our efforts to keep our voices, and our tribe, unified, however this situation resolves itself.”
“Agreed,” said Katura. “You will indeed consult the Stone again?”
“Yes. After the confusion this past week has brought, I hope Arantha will finally bring clarity.”
And if she doesn't, may she at least give me the strength to endure.
Chapter Thirty-Six
T he distant sound had now increased in volume, and seemed to be coming from the forest's edge just south of their location. Seconds went by, and the rumble morphed into hoof beats. A whole horde of them, and they were headed in his and Sen's direction.
Mizar realized he'd forgotten to put his High Mage cloak back on after his nap. At that moment, he had nothing to identify himself as the High Mage, except for his Wielding abilities.
With a roar, something large burst through the tree line several hundred yards away. Mizar couldn't make out any features, but he knew immediately that it was far too large to be a merych. It appeared to be running for its life.
Mizar tried to calm his mind as the beast veered to its right and ran straight through the shallow river. It was heading his way, and fast. As it drew near, he could better make out some details: a wide torso, four thick, powerful legs, and an elongated nose that sported two horns of different lengths. A chava.
Even more surprising than the presence of a beast that generally roamed the Plains of Iyan was the fact that it seemed to be equipped with a saddle. Someone was riding it. He was shocked to see the chava had several arrows sticking out of its body.
Seconds later, the forest disgorged four merychs, one right after the other. They also forded the stream with ease and pursued the wounded chava. Atop the steeds were men riding like the wind, and two of them were firing arrow after arrow at their prey. One arrow embedded itself in the chava's hindquarters, and it roared with pain, slowing its pace even further. The merychs would soon overtake the wounded beast and its rider.
Keeping low to the ground, Mizar watched as the pursuit neared his position. His breath caught in his throat when he saw that the person riding the chava was not a man, but a girl. She wore an outfit made from some kind of tanned leather that revealed long legs and muscular arms. She clutched a bow in her left hand, but judging from the way she was slumped over in the saddle, she lacked the ability to fire back at the men hounding her. Like her mount, two arrows protruded from her body, one in her leg and the other in her side. Blood flowed freely from both wounds.
One of the two pursuing archers pulled up alongside the weakening chava, took aim and fired another arrow into the neck of the creature. It gave another gurgling roar, and its knees buckled, causing it to lose its balance and fall face-first to the ground. The girl was thrown from the saddle, landing several yards away on a patch of thick grass that grew near the bank of the river.
All four men brought their merychs to a quick halt and dismounted them. Three of the men had bows drawn. Two of them covered the chava, whose breath had diminished to a hollow rasp, and the third pointed his arrow at the prone body of the girl.
Mizar took a good look at the men: rough, dark brown skin, and faces adorned with thick beards and metal pins stuck through them. Vandans.
The rumors were true: Vandan raiders roamed the woods, preying on unsuspecting travelers, and this girl had been unfortunate enough to cross their path.
The one man not armed with a bow drew a short knife from his belt as he approached the girl, using his free hand to turn her over onto her back. Mizar faintly made out her shallow gasps. He was relieved that she wasn't killed by the fall, but it didn't look like her situation was about to improve.
He stealthily approached the men, all of whom had their backs to him. The chava now lay unmoving. Three raiders stood back, watching the fourth as he crouched down next to the girl, grabbed a hold of her tunic and held his knife right in front of her eyes. “Good,” he said, panting. “Ya ain' dead yet.” With a snarl, he closed his fingers around the arrow protruding from her thigh and gave it a twist. Her mouth opened in a muted scream, as if she didn't have the air in her lungs to support the sound. Her back arched, and he shoved her back to the ground again.
He straddled her, leaning over until his face was right next to hers. “You killed my brudda,” he snarled. “And yer gonna stay alive jus' long enough to feel me cut ya ta small pieces, ya manky whore.” Then he stood up, brandishing his knife. He shifted it in his hand, as if preparing to plunge it downwards into the girl's bleeding body.
Mizar strode forward, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the power of Arantha surged through him, waiting to manifest and teach these heathens a lesson. One of the archers must have heard the sound of his footfalls, as he spun around and saw Mizar approaching. “Vor
is!” he cried out.
As one, all three men turned to face him. One of them was so startled by Mizar's sudden appearance he let loose his arrow, the shot going wide. Mizar didn't even have to move to dodge it. The man, realizing he'd just wasted his last arrow, dropped his bow to the ground and drew his sword. The other two archers, who possessed cooler heads, kept their aim on Mizar.
“What's dis?” said Voris. “Whaddaya want, old man?”
As he normally did when he traveled back to his home province, Mizar dressed in the trappings of a commoner: a simple brown tunic that came down past his knees and a pair of thick riding boots. Though he was proud to serve his King, he never felt comfortable having the citizens of Darad bow to him. It was out of respect, he knew, but even forty years after becoming High Mage, he still thought of himself as nothing more than a farmer's son who'd been called upon by Arantha to do his duty.
“You have crossed into Daradian territory,” said Mizar authoritatively, “and I would wager you don't have permission to do so.”
Voris sneered, pointing his knife at Mizar. “Oh yah? What'cha gon' do 'bout it, old man? Arrest us?” He gave a coarse laugh, eliciting smiles and chuckles from the other three men.
“Something like that.”
Voris laughed so hard it turned into a hacking cough. “Der are four of us, ya old braga. I don' see no sword, no bow 'n arrahs on ya.”
“I need no such devices to deal with scum like you,” Mizar said, knitting his brows. He felt his anger rising, but he somehow kept his voice even.
Mizar considered himself a man of peace, and he was loath to condemn an entire country of men based on the actions of a few, but he had yet to hear of any Elystran encountering a Vandan and describe them as anything but sadistic, barbaric animals. He'd heard tales of how Vandan raiders treated their victims that would make even men with the strongest constitutions nauseous.
“Dis ain' yer bus'ness, old man,” Voris spat. “Dis gell killed my brudda, and I mean to take my revenge. Walk away now, or ye'll be joinin' her.”
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 27